Dust, Shadows, and Memories
by tillmermaidswalk
Summary: The war left scars on many - mental, physical, emotional, and otherwise. Old rivalries have been deepened and aged with time. When two adversaries are thrown together by circumstance, a series of events is set into play that nobody could have predicted. M for lemons in later chapters.
1. Enter, Enemy

**Chapter One**

Ron and Harry had been chattering on for ages. Something about new recruits for the Chudley Cannons and how the Holyhead Harpies were going to kick their arses. Hermione sighed, a bit regretfully, and pulled out a book. She would've liked to know a bit about Quidditch, but she couldn't stand to read about, let alone remember, the names of all of those players. It wasn't as if she'd meet any of them.

At this, she shuddered, remembering her absolutely _charming_ time with Viktor Krum and opened her book. It was an interesting nonfiction work – Delusions of Gender by a muggle named Cordelia Fine1. The bibliography alone was enough pages to be called a small chapter. Hermione settled into her seat near the window of their compartment of the Hogwarts Express and began to read.

A few hours later, with a finished book in hand, Hermione glanced at the time.

"I'd best be changing," she commented, "The Prefect's meeting is set to begin, and the train will be arriving soon."

"Right," agreed Harry, "Leave me in peace!"

"I guess I'd better be off, then," came Ginny's reply, "You aren't likely to get much peace if I stay."

Harry's ears went a bit red. "Shut up," he muttered.

Hermione rolled her eyes and got up to change. She didn't necessarily enjoy wearing her uniform, but it was always nice to put it back on. It set the mood, really. The uniform was just part of her return home to Hogwarts. But Hogwarts wouldn't be the same anymore. Entire halls had been demolished, people would be eerily absent, and nearly half of the school would not be returning to complete their education.

 _It's all gone to dust,_ thought Hermione, _Dust and shadows, and memories, and people that should be here but aren't. People that should be_ alive _but aren't._

A familiar weight settled on Hermione's chest. Tonks, strong and dedicated, floated across her vision. Then, a flash, followed by the hysterical cackles of Bellatrix Lestrange. Hermione's forearm throbbed painfully and her throat felt thick with tears. _Mudblood._ The word slashed through her mind, bringing with it not shame, but pain, both physical and mental. But anger rose above it all.

Hermione dragged to mind the image of Mrs. Weasley, furious, standing over a mess of onyx coils – the body of Hermione's torturer. _It's all over now,_ Hermione thought, _Over._ Still, she couldn't shake the feeling of unease.

Hermione admired her reflection in the mirror. Gryffindor tie, with a nice combination of red and gold that she'd always thought brought color to her cheeks. Stark, crisp robes, adorned only with a silver badge reading _Head Girl_. Hermione felt a swell of pride rise in her chest. She had worked hard at magic, she had done all she could to prove that she wasn't just that Muggle-born. Hermione had gone on adventures, finished daring quests, and saved the world, both magical and otherwise. To top it all off, she had passed all her classes with flying colors. Here, finally, was her recognition.

Hermione licked her lips and set to the Prefects' compartment. She wanted to arrive early so that she could have a chat with the Head Boy. The identity of the Head Boy hadn't been revealed to her in the letter she'd received over the summer. It had just given her the basics - a brief description of her duties as Head Girl, a quick stab at her dormitory conditions (she'd be sharing a common room and bathroom with the Head Boy), and the list of Prefects.

Of course, Hermione had already drawn up a tentative patrol schedule and a few ideas for school spirit days, but the majority of her work would have to wait until she met with the Head Boy. With this thought, Hermione slid open the door of the Prefects' compartment and sat down, waiting for the Head Boy to arrive.

Not two minutes later, the door drifted open once more. Hermione caught a glimpse of elegant robes and a tall body before the figure stepped resolutely into the compartment and drew the door firmly shut.

Hermione was on her feet in a flash, wand in hand. She backed up against the window of the compartment and stared at the formidable character. A chiseled jawline and angular face were framed by a messy fringe of platinum blonde hair. Long eyelashes outlined slate grey eyes.

Gone was the young boy who Hermione used to exchange cold insults with. Gone was the innocent face and cunning smile. Standing in front of her was a pureblood whose aunt had done unspeakable things. Standing across from Hermione was a Death Eater, from a family of Death Eaters. Standing in the Prefects' compartment, 45 minutes early, was Draco Malfoy with a small, shining piece of silver pinned carefully to his robes..

Hermione could see more than feel her wand hand shaking as she put together the pieces. Draco Malfoy had always had extremely good marks. Draco Malfoy had always been dedicated to schoolwork. Draco Malfoy had done extremely well on the Quidditch pitch. Draco Malfoy had done things worthy of a hero during the war.

Hermione scoffed to herself. _Malfoy? A hero?_ She knew better. Draco Malfoy had been just as prejudiced as any other Death Eater. He'd lied, cheated. He had let his Death Eater friends into Hogwarts. Draco Malfoy was solely responsible for the death of one of the most powerful wizards of all time. He was a far stretch from a hero.

"Ahem."

It was such a human noise that Hermione was momentarily taken aback. Almost immediately, angry heat rose back in her ribs. Her wand arm steadied as she looked the boy directly in the eyes.

"Malfoy," she snapped, her voice dripping in animosity, "How undeniably welcome it will be to have the enchanting experience of working beside you this year."

"A pleasure, I'm sure," Malfoy replied, the malice in his voice matching hers, "Now, we should discuss a few things before our charges arrive."

Hermione slowly and begrudgingly lowered her wand. There was work to be done, and as much as she hated to admit it, Malfoy was right. There was a lot to talk about. Hermione took a seat close to the window.

Malfoy sat down across from her and pulled out the table from the wall. He looked at her for a second, his eyes cold and calculating. Hermione tapped her wand once against the table to summon her papers, which appeared just under her wand. Not once did she break eye contact with Malfoy. All of a sudden, Hermione recalled a passage from a book about magical creatures.

" _Hippogriffs are intensely proud creatures [...]. Eye contact should be maintained at all times, without a single blink. […] If offended, it may attack."_

Hermione felt an unexpected stab of happiness at the memory of Buckbeak attacking Malfoy. She didn't let it show on her face. On the outside, she maintained a distantly intimidating look. _I am not afraid,_ she reminded herself, _I am stronger than he ever will be._

Hermione flipped through her small pile of papers until she found the one she was looking for.

"I've drawn up a tentative patrol schedule. We'll change it a month or two in, when we've identified the trouble spots this year," Hermione asserted.

Malfoy pulled a map from a pocket in his robes.

"Over the past few years, the trouble spots have been here, here, and in this hallway here," he said, "Of course, I wouldn't expect you to know that, as you've never been in trouble."

Hermione looked him dead in the eye.

"Check yourself, Malfoy," she replied, "I've been in more trouble than I care to remember. Even otherwise, I was a Prefect when I was younger. Or did you forget? I've already worked those spots into the schedule. You'd know that if you'd looked before you opened your daft mouth."

Thirty frustrating, unproductive, and tense minutes later, people started to arrive. Hermione put away her papers before pressing her wand to the finished Patrol Schedule. " _Imitor multis_ ," she whispered, creating copies of the sheet. As she handed out the schedules, she began to explain the duties of the Prefects.

"Here are your schedules. You will be expected to show up on time to each patrol. If you need to make a change, find someone to switch with you and give either me, or the Head Boy notice. By the way, I am Head Girl, Hermione Granger, and this is Draco Malfoy, your Head Boy.

"I'm sure you're all waiting to get back to your friends, so we'll keep this short. As Prefects, you must be on you best behavior at all times. We are counting on you to be role models as well as enforcers. When regulating house points, you will be fair but unyielding. There will be no unfair points given or taken.

"Oh, I've almost forgotten. The Prefects bathroom. There is only one for the all of us to share. It isn't gender-segregated, so I trust that there will be no breach of school rules. Or anyone's virginity. The password is Interhouse Unity. You can thank our kind Headmistress for that.

"That'll be all for today. If there aren't any questions, you're welcome to go. Otherwise, stay after to speak with us."

There was a bit of a murmur as people left the compartment. One boy, a fifth year by the looks of him, hesitated at the door. He looked as though he had something on his mind, but one glance at the other two redheaded Prefects who'd stayed back sent him bolting to his own compartment.

The two Prefects in question had matching looks of revulsion and a certain set to their shoulders as they stared Malfoy down. Malfoy, however, was looking straight at Hermione, a sort of unreadable look on his face. The tension in the room could have been cut like butter.

Hermione, her eyes fixed to Malfoy's, was suddenly tired. Her shoulders relaxed.

"Let's go," she told Ginny and Ron without drawing her gaze from Malfoy, "Harry will be wanting to hear all about this."

With that, she breezed out of the compartment without so much as a backwards glance to the boy standing alone in an empty compartment.


	2. Forced Interaction

**Chapter 2**

 **A/N:** **Hello! This is my second story (the other one is on hiatus indefinitely). It's post-war, which I suppose I should've mentioned last chapter and is probably pretty clear now… my bad!**

 **Shoutout to** _ **lakelady8425**_ **for being the first and only person to review!**

 **Also, you can expect at least one update a month, if not more, but I make no promises.**

 **The use of exclamation points in this authors note is physically hurting me but I can't be bothered to change it so I guess we'll just go with it.**

 **DISCLAIMER: Wow, it is almost as if I am writing** _ **fan**_ **fiction, as in fiction written by a** _ **fan**_ **. It is almost as if none of this is the published work of JKR. Wow, who would've known that** _ **fan**_ **fiction on** _ **fan**_ **would be written by a** _ **fan**_ **and not the actual creator of the thing that the** _ **fan**_ _ **fan**_ **girls over. Astonishing.**

"Malfoy? _"_ Harry asked for what must have been the hundredth time, " _Draco Malfoy_ is the _Head Boy_ of Hogwarts? _Malfoy?_ Are you _sure?"_

" _Yes,_ Harry, I'm _quite_ sure," Hermione replied, a bit exasperated, "Draco Malfoy is the Head Boy of Hogwarts. I am the Head Girl of Hogwarts. Over the course of the next year, I will be forced to spend multiple hours with him doing work and behaving at least _faux_ civilly. Do stop repeating yourself like a parrot."

They were back in the compartment. Everyone was in their robes, ready for the feast in the Great Hall. The sorting was going to be particularly exciting this year as there were quite a lot of new first years. Perhaps their sheer number would make up for the students who had elected not to finish their education at Hogwarts.

Hermione was more than a bit irked at Harry. When she had first stormed into the compartment, Harry hadn't been there. When Harry finally reappeared in his Hogwarts attire, she had relayed the entire story, talking so fast she was left gasping for breath.

Harry's first reaction? _"Calm down, Hermione,"_ he'd said, " _I haven't understood a word you're saying."_

Needless to say, Hermione had had an aggravating train ride. She sank into her seat and drew her knees to her chest. Ron was pacing furiously. In one hand, he held the melted remains of a chocolate frog. His other fist was clenched around his wand. Hermione worried that he might break it.

"What are we going to do about this?" asked Ginny, "He can't just have the position like that. People have been wanting it for years. Someone like him should never have been in a position of power in the first place. That's what led to this whole _bloody war,_ isn't it?"

Hermione shivered, remembering the cold marble floor of Malfoy Manor. She'd only felt it for a minute before the blazing pain of a _Crucio_ shot through her, but it was one of her most vivid memories.

" _I don't know, I don't know."_

Malfoy's words when they'd first been captured by the Snatchers. Malfoy couldn't identify his poor schoolmate, Harry, with a Stinging Hex marring his features.

" _I don't know, I don't know!"_

He'd known. Hermione had seen Malfoy panic as he recognized Harry. In refusing to identify Harry, Malfoy had done his best to delay the inevitable. He'd done his best.

 _No_ , thought Hermione, _His best would've been if he'd actually done something of substance. Something that actually worked._

 _His best,_ she realized, _Would have been to give one of us a wand. Not easily, not just handed it to us, that would have been suicide. But just made one available. Given us some sort of weapon, some exit from that hell house._

But then, Harry had later snatched Malfoy's wand from a table. It had been unguarded, in the open. No respectable pureblood would have accidentally misplaced his wand. No respectable pureblood kept his wand anywhere but in his robes.

 _He'd done what he could, given the circumstances,_ Hermione supposed, _but… it doesn't count for much, not in my book. Not after the years and years of siding with them. Not after the tattoo branding his forearm. Not after he housed the same woman who tortured me and killed Sirius and broke Neville's parents._

"Hermione?"

Hermione started. She looked up, shaking stray pieces of hair from her face. Ginny was giving her a worried look, Harry had run his hand through his hair again, and Ron was breathing heavily through his mouth.

They were all staring at her, as if waiting for a reply.

"I'm sorry, what were you saying?" Hermione asked.

"I was just wondering if you'd talk to McGonagall about it, see if she'll get someone else to do it than Malfoy."

Hermione considered it for a moment. It was a reasonable proposition - if she could think of just how to put it. She couldn't exactly storm into the Headmistress's office and tell her "Excuse me, Headmistress, but you've placed a Death Eater in a position of power and I will not stand by it."

But that was just the issue. There _was_ a Death Eater in a position of power, and Hermione could _not_ stand by it.

Then again, Hermione had no idea what was going on in McGonagall's mind. McGonagall simply wasn't the kind to arbitrarily give someone a position, and she always gave credit where credit was due.

"If McGonagall put Malfoy in charge, she must've had some judgement behind it," Hermione reasoned, "So I suppose it wouldn't hurt to just ask her about it."

"Good," Ron agreed, "I'll come with you."

"You most certainly will not, Ronald Weasley," Hermione replied, "The last thing we need is you getting us on McGonagall's bad side - and don't you look at me like that, you know it's true. As soon as you open your mouth you'll say something out of line and she'll dock house points. Besides, this is a delicate enough matter as it is."

"That was some Sorting," Ron said through a mouthful of roast chicken, "We've got a good lot this year."

"So have other houses," Hermione agreed, "And none of the first years look at all gloomy. In fact, they're positively beaming."

As she spoke, Hermione noticed a first year giving her a horrid look, but she decided to ignore that. The Sorting always reminded Hermione of her first arrival at Hogwarts. She'd read loads before coming, and she'd known in advance which houses she'd want to be sorted into.

 _Ravenclaw_ , Hermione remembered, _It had seemed the perfect place for me. Other people who loved to learn, students who shared my interest in higher thought._

She smiled as she recalled the Sorting Hat persuading her otherwise. It had pecked at her one insecurity, that one detail that made her more suited for Gryffindor than she had dreamt.

Hermione was an activist. Bigots and inequality made her angry. She would be the one to fight for what's right, to stand tall in the face of injustice. That's what made Hermione a Gryffindor.

"What's that Malfoy is doing?" Harry asked. Harry was sitting erect on the bench and his elbows were resting just off the table. He was glaring straight at Malfoy, who was sneering and making gestures about his head.

 _Hair_ , Hermione realized, _He's miming hair._

Despite the blotches of heat building high in her cheekbones, Hermione squared her shoulders. She wasn't going to let Malfoy's usual business ruin dinner for her. Hermione was just glad that her closest friends hadn't been lost in the war. She was also glad that the Ministry was requiring a repeat of last year's material. Hermione knew that she would be able to make it if they'd tossed her into the real world - she was a war hero, for Merlin's sake!

But Hermione needed the familiar halls. The castle had already started repairing itself. New secrets lay behind each gargoyle, new paths beneath each loose cobblestone, new surprises hidden by each portrait.

Hogwarts this year was to be more for recovery, for exploration, for finding herself, than for education. Hermione was going to go on a trip of self-discovery this year, and if Malfoy wanted to get in her way, she'd show him just how much she'd matured in the war. Breaking the rules hardly seemed like a challenge after the war.

Just as Hermione resolved not to let Malfoy ruin her last year at Hogwarts, the food disappeared from the table. Hermione wiped at her mouth as McGonagall took the podium.

McGonagall cleared her throat and scanned the student body. She rose an eyebrow at Malfoy, who was still smirking about something, nodded at Luna, who looked happily up in return, and finally made eye contact with Hermione. Hermione smiled warmly back, feeling a sudden rush of affection for her headmistress.

"Good evening, I hope you've eaten your fill. Now, to our new students, welcome, and to our old students, welcome back. Before I allow you to be off, I must impart a few points of significance. As a clarification, all the staff will be repeating their last year's curriculum as past circumstances were unsuitable for teaching. First years and second years will have classes together. The rest of you will remain the same. Regulations, however, will now be based on age rather than year.

Last year was difficult for all of us, but I want to remind you all that no matter which side you fought for, no matter who you fought against, no matter whose death you hold yourself responsible for, you all earned your place in the Wizarding World. You all earned your welcome back to Hogwarts.

This year, you will all be making the extra effort to mend divisions between the houses and to be open to each other's opinions. You will find that, regardless of house, classes, and schedule, there is an extra hour added to your lunch. This is not, I repeat, not a free period.

During this hour, you will spend your time interacting with peers of other houses.

Together, we will heal the breaks which caused so much destruction in the past. Let the terror of Voldemort -" there were audible gasps as she said the name "- fall to ruin and let us move forward towards a greater future.

"But for now, your beds await, as warm and comfortable as you could ask for. Heads and Prefects, please guide the first years to their dormitories. Goodnight."

The benches slid back and Ron came round to Hermione's side.

"An entire hour of socializing with Slytherins? A whole bloody hour?" he hissed, "I haven't got the stomach to do it for a minute, let alone an hour!"

Hermione nodded. "I know what you mean, Ron," she gave a glance over her shoulder to where she knew a certain blonde was leading the Slytherin first years, "I'll be spending a very long time with one in specific."

"Ah, Miss Granger, just who I'd wanted to see today," McGonagall called out, "I hope you enjoyed your dinner."

Hermione didn't bother asking how McGonagall knew she was there. The castle was full of secrets and McGonagall was the stern mother of Hogwarts.

"Of course, Headmistress," Hermione agreed, "But I did have a question - a question about the Headboy?"

"You'll be wanting to know why I chose Mister Malfoy. Would it surprise you to know that he was in just earlier with the same question? Well, you see, that's partially the reason why I'd wanted to meet with you. I knew you'd be wondering, and I knew that _you_ knew I wouldn't take kindly to being questioned."

Hermione nodded in agreement.

"Interhouse Unity, Miss Granger," McGonagall asserted, "It's a played card, but a necessary one. You two are Heads from opposing houses. It would do you well to lead your peers in uniting as one Hogwarts. Besides, it is not as if Mister Malfoy is unqualified for the job. He has marks to rival your own and is an overall good student."

Looking down at her fingers, Hermione bit her lip. She understood the importance of Interhouse Unity, but that didn't mean she had to like it.

McGonagall was giving her a hard look.

"Mister Malfoy will be here in a few minutes, Miss Granger," she said, "I'd suggest you come to terms with this arrangement."

Hermione looked up, startled. Malfoy was coming here?

No sooner had the thought crossed her mind then there came a knock at the door. Malfoy stepped inside, his eyes down but his posture perfect.

"Ah, Mister Malfoy," McGonagall greeted him, "Take a seat. We'll be discussing your living arrangements."

Hermione shifted nervously. She heard a tapping sound. Glancing around the room, she finally noticed Malfoy's leg vibrating against his chair.

"Living arrangements, Headmistress?" he asked.

"Well, yes, of course. You didn't expect to be staying in the same place, did you?" McGonagall replied. Without waiting for an answer, she continued. "You'll be staying in the Head Dorms. There will be a common room, a study, a bathroom, and two separate bedrooms for you to use. Under normal circumstances, I would warn you against inappropriate behavior, but these circumstances are hardly normal."

A shared bathroom. They'd need a shower schedule. Beside her, she heard Malfoy muttering something about schedules and organization.

"Your living area will be located on the seventh floor behind "Barnabas the Barmy and the Ogres." The password is "Serpentine Flames." The study will have a separate entrance - the gargoyle on the sixth floor - for Prefects and the like. The password to your study will Interhouse Unity until two weeks into the term. At this time, you may decide on a more secure password.

"Are there any questions?" McGonagall finished.

Hermione gave Malfoy a glance. When he said nothing, she answered for the both of them.

"It appears not, headmistress."

McGonagall smiled and dismissed them. Had Hermione looked back, she would have seen McGonagall's gaze follow her out the room and into the hall.


	3. Of Murals, Manors, and Malfoy

**A/N:** **hEY GUYS AND GALS LONG TIME NO SEE HAHAHA I am so sorry it has literally been years since I've last updated. I wanna say that there will be more frequent updates now that I've actually started the next chapter and have concrete plans for where this story is and where it will go, but honestly I don't know. However, some reviews would DEFINITELY decrease the likelihood of my supreme negligence.**

 **On that note, shoutout to** _ **lakelady8425**_ **for still being the only commenter and thus my most committed fan.** _ **lakelady,**_ **I want to apologize to you specifically because you have been more committed to this fic than I have tbh.**

* * *

As soon as Hermione left the room, she quickened her pace, easily getting ahead of Malfoy. She didn't want to spend any more time with him than she had to, and if she got to the Heads Dormitory first, she'd get to choose which room she wanted.

Unfortunately, Malfoy seemed to have the same goal. His longer strides gave him an advantage, and before Hermione could blink, Malfoy was in front of her. She gripped her bag and widened her steps, determined to get there first.

 _This is childish,_ some part of Hermione's brain warned her, _let it go._ But Hermione was not about to let some cheating, lying, racist pureblood beat her, even if it was a trivial competition.

Hermione was broken from her concentration when Malfoy broke into a sprint. He had a considerable lead on her now, and had almost reached the staircase. Hermione put on a small burst of speed and was surprised to once again be in the lead. She raced up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

At the top of the sixth staircase, Hermione spared a glance behind her. No Malfoy. _Good,_ she smiled to herself, and topped the landing of the seventh floor. She power walked to the portrait of Barnabas and gave him the password without letting him even finish greeting her.

Proud of her win, Hermione unslung her bag from her shoulder and dropped it to the ground. She plopped herself onto the closest couch with a sigh of relief - and froze as she noticed to steely grey eyes following her movements.

Malfoy was leaned against a wall, smiling at Hermione with a raised eyebrow and a cold look in his eyes. _Triumph,_ Hermione realized.

She sprang to her feet. "How -?"

Malfoy laughed. "Came in through the study. Sixth floor entrance. Much faster."

Hermione groaned. That made more sense than her, bookworm extraordinaire, outpacing Draco Malfoy, star Quidditch player. She scooped her bag up and took her first look around the place.

They were in a rather large common room with light yellow walls done up in white trim. The furniture was a nice, comfy-looking black, except for two arm chairs which sat opposite each other next to the fireplace. Those two chairs were each of their house colors.

Directly across the entrance was a spiral staircase leading upstairs. _To the bathroom and bedrooms,_ Hermione assumed. To her right was a set of clouded French windows. she pushed them open to find a sizable study with a large wooden desk, a good number of chairs, and a chalkboard. Large windows let in natural light. Hermione smiled to herself. _This will do nicely,_ she smiled, _it's almost perfect._

She turned to Malfoy. Almost. She sighed.

"Have you been upstairs yet?"

For just a moment, he seemed surprised to be addressed directly. He arched a practiced eyebrow.

"Does it matter?"

Hermione smiled. That was a definitive no, which meant that he had only _just_ arrived when she'd come in. She breezed by him and up the stairs.

As it turned out, she needn't have worried about choosing rooms. The staircase reached a landing and split into two diverging sets of stairs. Hermione guessed that it worked in the same way as the Gryffindor dorms - she could go up both staircases, but Malfoy could only go to his.

Hermione glanced up the staircase on the right. There was an elegant "G" painted on the door.

 _For Gryffindor,_ Hermione theorized, taking in the cursive letter done up in all red and gold. She turned to the other staircase. The door atop these stairs was adorned with the silver letter, "M," on a green background.

 _Oh,_ Hermione realized, _G for Granger. M for Malfoy._

She put her foot on the first step towards her room. Suddenly, Hermione's vision was blocked by a blinding red light.

 _A rogue jinx?_ Hermione wondered. In an instant, she threw herself backwards onto Malfoy's stairs, head shielded and knees up.

There was a moment's silence.

"Granger, what the hell?" Malfoy called from below.

She looked up. Her staircase was fine. Nothing was broken. Nobody stood at the door, or anywhere else for that matter. Why had there been a red light if nobody had cast a _Stupefy_?

"Granger?"

Hermione calmly ignored Malfoy. She picked herself up and took a step towards her stairs. She heard Malfoy running up from the common room. He arrived just as she put a finger on her railing. The stairs lit up a soft red.

"Do mine do that?" Malfoy asked. He stretched his hand to reach his rail. Green light raced from the point he made contact all the way up to his door. When it reached, both staircases burnt with a light which moved like fire. Hermione basked in it, taking in the sight. Red and green swirled together, like a volcano taking out a forest.

The flames crept up the wall and arced towards each other. Their path was interrupted by a large window. For a moment, the window and the fire glowed white together. Then, as if a switch had been turned off, the light disappeared.

In its place was an intricate mural. On the right side - Hermione's side - stood a lion. He was calm, poised, majestic. His gaze was cast directly to the green serpent on the left side of the window. The serpent danced for him, gazing back. She seemed to be laughing at the lion, teasing him for his lofty character.

Hermione touched the lion. Her hand was less than half its paw.

"Wow," she whispered, "That was amazing."

"There's a mural like this in the Manor," Malfoy replied, "I never thought about it, but I imagine it must have started out like this one."

Hermione was no longer listening. The Manor. Malfoy Manor. She closed her eyes. Black hair flashed against the back of her eyelids. Dark, maniacal laughter echoed through her mind. Hermione's breath came as short hiccups for air. They were quick, but not one gasp made it to her lungs. The skin on her forearm tickled with warmth. She opened her eyes to stare down at it. Blood ran in rivulets from the letters carved into her. _Mudblood_.

Hermione's eyes stung, causing her to blinked hard. When she refocused, the scars were dry and the pain was gone. She took longer breaths, but they were still too shallow. Phantom arms cradled her, as if Ron was there, comforting her.

The thought Ron holding her made her stomach churn. During the war, it had made sense to turn to Ron for comfort. He was there, they were alive, and he needed her for the same sort of comfort. They had each other's backs. Now, though, Hermione was sure that there was no way she could possibly want him. Ron was as good as her brother. They hadn't actually talked it out, but Hermione was sure Ron felt the same way about her.

She tore her gaze from her forearm to examine the lion. His mane was thick and long. The mural seemed to have caught him with a wind just catching his hair, and it was blowing towards the serpent _just_ so. Hermione followed the lion's gaze towards the snake's feminine, teasing eyes. She had fixed the lion with an intense, but playful look. Her body corkscrewed downwards in heavily-corded spirals. Hermione followed her muscled coils down, down, down all the way to -

Malfoy's shoulder leaned against the serpent's tail. Hermione met his gaze. His cheekbones were an angry pink and his eyebrows were knit. The look on his face, well, suffice it to say that Hermione knew it all too well. It was the look of curiosity that she got when she was trying to puzzle something out, the look that said, "I know pain. In fact, I know your pain."

But there was more to Malfoy's look. His expression begged the question, "Do you know my pain?"

Hermione turned and flew up to her room.


End file.
